The Shadow Keeper
by Mirror Dragon
Summary: okay. this is probuly the third time I've tried this story, but i've got it now.  Eragon and the varden are pressed into a corner, and Eragon must find the last of a race that could command the shadows.  summery sucks, just read the story. better summery
1. The Begining of Chaos

**alright, this is the third time I've tried this kind of story, but i have thought it all out this time, and i will finish it!**

**Summery: Eragon and the Varden are being attacked by the king's forces, and a new mage has appered among them. This mage is able to summon monsters that were lost to the shadows before the time of the first Riders. now, they are back, and want revenge. the hope of the Varden now rests on the shoderls of young rhys, a 5000 Year old Shadow caster. But Rhys's Past is hidden from himself, it it hides a dangorus secret, one that could Shatter the world, and make even time itself move backwards. Can they solve the problum that no one knows before Rhys causes the same catastrophy he did 3000 years ago?**

**Disclamer: eragon and all the charecters from Eragon are no mine, but will be used. RHYS IS MINE!**

"Eragon, what are we going to do?"

Eragon didn't know what to do, but he didn't like the numbers. Ever since they had taken the fort of Am'aren, the empire had adopted a rather devastating tactic. As the Varden moved out, small raiding parties would continuously attack, and then disappear. After a few days, Thorn and Murtagh would appear as a gleaming red force of nature, and devastate the caravan. Sometimes survivors made it back. More times than not, no one came back. Morale was lower than ever, and the support and fragile momentum were starting to break. Surda could only give so much, and the Black Hand was becoming very active. Soon, Surda may become unable to support the Varden's march, and without Surda's support, the Varden would have to retreat or fall back.

Nasuada, close to despair, had called Eragon in to discuss the matter. Glaedr and Saphira listened in with Eragon, but they stayed quite as Eragon thought.

"We can't fall back…but we need more troops and weapons. King Orrin may pull out any day, and troop morale may go with him. If we fall back, the Empire will just rebuild, and make it even harder for us to get back. The king is playing with us. He can easily defeat us if he were appear in person, but he insists only on attacking our supplies and outer reaching adventures with Thorn and Murtagh." Eragon said out loud, trying to get his thoughts to work. He and Saphira had returned after another failed attempt to save a caravan. It was really hard to see positive at the moment.

"He isn't toying with us, he is showing the world that he is the strongest. By defeating us this way, he is telling all the others that are unhappy with him that he doesn't even need to lift a finger, just his voice. He is trying to avoid making the Varden a martyr, crushing us slowly stops that." Nasuada said, starting to pace the length of her rather large tent.

"_perhaps we could fly all the way to the king's accursed castle, burn it to the ground, and be back the next day."_ Saphira commented with a huff, only to Eragon. She wasn't much for long depressing speeches.

"_You know why we can't."_ Eragon cautioned

"_I know, but it would make things much simpler. Go to his castle burn him in it." _ Saphira said, settling down like a massive blue cat.

"Eragon, what are we going to do?" Nasuada asked again.

They sat in a quite silence, then _"I have an idea, but it is very risky…"_ Glaedr's deep resonating voice sounded like a dull waterfall in Eragon's mind, and Nasuada jumped as she heard it as well. It was easy to forget Glaedr was there. He didn't speak out much.

"_The mighty Glaedr speaks!"_ Saphira sent with a small huff.

"_Be nice Saphira." _Eragon scolded

"What is your Idea, Glaedr?" Nasuada asked, cutting them back onto the topic before Saphira could respond.

"_I've heard that the Riders, while being as strong as they were, made a connection with a creature from a distant land. This creature looked human, but was stronger than any dwarf, faster than any elf, and could match any dragon. I never saw it, as it was before my time, but Oromis had found a way to make that contact again. There is one problem. If we do manage to contact him, it is possible that others may make it through, and the first may like us enough to join us, but the others may not find our appeal so appealing."_

"Why didn't you say anything of this?" Nasuada asked, still pacing, but moving faster, excited.

"_I know that the Varden respect you, Lady Nasuada, but I have secrets that you will never hear, and this was supposed to be one of them. Be glad that you can still hear my voice. The world that they live on is a dying world, one that might not even be there. Legend says that in the Dragon's spine, one of the first were found, and they opened a gateway to the world that they lived on, and several other like him came. After that, they closed the portal, and sealed it forever. They lived in_ _Alagaësia a long time ago, and are believed to be the mysterious gray folk."_

"Wait, are you talking about the ones that crafted the Ancient Language?" Eragon asked, surprise clear on his face.

"_The very same."_ Glaedr confirmed, _"I don't believe that they intended to create the ancient language, but no one knows what they intended in the first place, but..."_

"Nasuada! Horrible news!" Jörmundur yelled as he burst into the tent, registering Eragon with frantic eyes, and then snapped his attention to Nasuada, "Thorn has attacked our caravan!"

Jörmundur had volunteered to travel with the latest Caravan, not only as a guard, but as a messenger that was known for keeping a cool head in the worst of situations. He had taken Eragon's horse, Snowfire, as a quick battle mount, or a swift message horse. Eragon reactively reached out, feeling the exhausted stallion's mind, and having to immediately shield himself from the wave of overwhelming terror in Snowfire's mind. Feeling the animal's pain and exhaustion, Eragon muttered a hasty spell, and let the creature fall into a deep sleep, and then listened to what Jörmundur was saying.

"It started this morning, like any other morning. We loaded up as fast as we could, readied our bows, and set out, each soldier alert and ready. I was at the front of the caravan when they attacked. It was more of Galbatorix's painless creations, and we managed to slay most of them, and then they ran. Instead of celebrating, we readied ourselves and marched on as a heavy fog set in. a few hours of maddening silence, and then the fog was gone, and Thorn and Murtagh were in front of us. He had his blade out, tip in the ground, helmet visor back and a demonic grin on his face. We readied ourselves, and fired a volley of arrows at him. They did nothing beyond make his grin become a laugh. We put up our shields and our dwindling casters put up a fire barrier so that he could force that accursed dragon burn us. But we were completely wrong."

"Murtagh moved aside, and we say a small figure get off his dragon. Covered in black like the Ra' Zac, and a hood that covered his face completely. Murtagh pointed at us, and said 'these are the ones that want to poison the world. They want to throw it into chaos. If you want to maintain balance, you know what to do.' The hooded figure had nodded, and they several wafer black objects had appeared around him. He selected one, said a few words that were in a different language, and there was a flash, and then there were two dragons! Thorn was a nightmare, but the blue eyed white one was the reaper itself! The hooded figure said something, and the dragon attacked with an attack that smashed right through the barriers we had put up, killing our mages, and then smashed into our food wagon, blasting it to pieces. Then the beast attacked, wrecking havoc, and Murtagh amused himself by making them immobile long enough for the new dragon to catch them. I was able to get away by charging at the strange mage, and then banking as the dragon attacked its master in an attempt to get me." Jörmundur concluded, collapsing in a chair that had been provided, "I escaped, but got this as I flashed past the mage."  
>He pulled from his tunic pocket a wafer thin object, and handed it to Nasuada, who passed it to Eragon.<p>

It was a curious object, looking much like a fortune card, but not quite. The back looked like black and brown whirlpool, drawing one's eyes to it, and the front was a turquoise green color, showing what looked like a bracelet with a large Emerald gem imbedded at the top. It was made of gold and had dragons etched into the sides with silver. There was text at the top, and something that could only be a description at the bottom, but the text was foreign to Eragon. It was not English, nor Elvish, Dwarfish, or Ancient language. It was something even older.

Jörmundur's news was supposed to be for Eragon and Nasuada only, but everyone had seen him ridding back. When Eragon left Nasuada's tent to think, he had to have Saphira carry him back to avoid all the questions. As they glided above the Varden camp, Eragon, Saphira, and Glaedr discussed the news.

"What is this?" Eragon asked them both, looking at the strange card.

"_I don't know, little one. I don't know…" _Saphira said solemnly.

"_It might be a spell of the grey folk. The few surviving legends said that they used some kind of card, but that doesn't help us at all" _Glaedr interjected, his own voice falling.

"What we need are answers. Glaedr, is there any place that the gray folk might have gone? Like a final resting place, someplace that they would have left clues." Eragon asked.

"_One. It is a place called dragon ravine. Hidden among cursed mountains, it is said that the sleeping place of the grey light lies. No one knows what the grey light is, but it is said to be a power greater than that of all the dragons before the time of the elf and dragon war."_

"Is that even possible? Never mind, what we need to know is what the cursed mountains are. There are only a few mountain ranges in the land, now which ones are cursed." Eragon thought out loud.

"_It would be a place that the king has never ventured to…"_ Saphira said, beating her wings and hovering.

"_He has come close, but he has never found it…"_ Glaedr provided, also in thought.

"so it has to be a cursed mountain that Galbatorix has been through, but never manage to conquer, and hidden from the world…" Eragon started, and then realized what he was describing, "no way!"

"_Wait, are you saying that you lived near an ancient civilization, and didn't know about it! How ironic." _Glaedr said, sensing where Eragon was going.

"_how could he have known?" _Saphira objected in Eragon's behalf, _"how was he supposed to know that the hope of the Varden lay in The Spine?"_

A few days later, Eragon was in The Spine. To keep Murtagh from attacking too much, He had left Saphira again, but he was worried that the strange mage would appear. From the way Jörmundur described it, the dragon that the mage conjured was much stronger than a normal dragon, and spat lightning instead of fire. The worry put an extra urgency to his run.

The familiar mountains looked strange to Eragon's new eyes, and the deer that he would have once hunted bounded away without care. The only other ones in the mountains were the animals.

After arriving, Eragon realized that he had no other idea where to look than in The Spine, and The Spine itself was a range that stretched almost seven leagues.

So he started where he was most familiar. The place he found Saphira's egg.

It was easy to find, as the trees still had no leaves. Stopping to eat his meal of wild fruits, he examined the place with his eyes and mind.

On the outside, the trees were dead, killed by the magic portal that night, but they were thriving on the inside, home to insects and birds. They were a barren testament of his journey to save the Empire, reaching up like the claws of a long dead beast, stripped and barren. But what was this?

Deeper, into the very heart of the tree, a small amount of energy was flowing, not much, but enough to spark his interest. Th energy from the creatures and the trees was traveling down, into the mountain, like a tickle of water into the soil. The amount of energy being drained was minuscule, so little that the energy was replaced instantly. It was a never ending power supply, and it spanned across the entire Spine.

But where did it go?

Watching the flow of energy intently, he followed it on its path down the mountain. as he walked, he let his real eyes help him avoid hazards like a protruding rock, a low branch, and a wasp nest. The thin lines of energy from each creature gathered as it moved, creating a small stream, and then continued to grow. The farther he moved, the more the energy grew, until he didn't need to lo for the energy. He could feel it.

He continued walking, the presence of magic growing greater with each step, until the magic formed a fog around his senses, pressuring them and making his head pound. He continued walking, not realizing the danger, until the magic pressure slammed into his mind.

With his defenses down so that he could see the magic around him and watch for creatures, it caught him by surprise, and flung him to the ground, and then it left.

Panting, Eragon got up, putting up a barrier that looked like his thumbs, and readied him.

Sure enough, the mysterious force slammed into him again, but was deflected by his barrier. Not letting his guard down for an instant, Eragon took a step forward. This time, the force slammed into him with much more force, making Eragon grind his teeth in pain and concentration. The force however didn't remain the same as some other mind attacks, but grew with each attack. Eragon felt hi walls crumbling, and knew that if he didn't do something, this force was going to overwhelm him.

He let his senses out for less than a second, and then threw up a steel wall as the force attacked like a hunder bolt. In the second, he noticed something. There was something in the mist.

"_Galisen!"_ Eragon yelled, throwing his energy into the gale, forcing his mind to work at defending, and allowing his magic through. Nothing happened

The force slammed into Eragon again, this time in triumph. Somewhere, something was grinning. This was worse than when he had tried to talk to Arya. When he talked to Arya he had told he that he was a rider and a friend, and she had stopped her assault. With no other options, he held onto that slim hope that he would be recognized here.

He opened his mind, letting the surprised force in, and shouted as loud as he could with both mind and voice "Eka Ai Fricai un Shur'tugal!" I am rider and friend

The force stopped the attack, but remained ready. It was a mind unlike any other; strong, powerful, and untamable.

Eragon felt a tendril of thought brush his mind. It was full of fear and curiosity.

"_A Rider? As in a Dragon rider?"_ the thought said. The voice sounded light and weary at the same time, like a merchant trading with 'friendly' pirates. It had a quality to it that was…young. The owner of that mind was a child!

Trying to hide his surprise, Eragon sent thought back, _"yes, I am a dragon rider. My name is Eragon."_

A wave of relief washed over the strange mind, _"Ahh, I was afraid that you had died. How fairs the Elves and Dragons? Did the treaty work?"_

"_Treaty?"_ Eragon sent back, thoroughly confused, _"what treaty?"_

The thought was silent, and then _"did you forget? You elves have fickle memories. You try to remember something important, and then get all caught up in nature and life. Typical. Come through. In case you forgot the way, I provided a guide."_

The magic that Eragon felt lifted, and the mist began to dissipate, leaving Eragon in the valley he had walked into. A few moments later, a small strip of light appeared, traveling among the ground and turning. Eragon had a feeling that this was the guide that the mind wanted him to follow, but he had no clue whether the minds owner was on his side. And several things didn't add up. Before Eragon had started following the energy he had found, he had looked at the entire mountain range with his mind and he was very sure that he hadn't left the Spine. And the mind that had attacked him had felt younger than he was, yet his mind was stronger than Eragon's and he had talked about the treaty that had been crafted between the Elves and Dragons almost like he had come up with it, and that had been over three thousand years ago! Something wasn't right, but Eragon had come to investigate the Spine, and this was something worth investigating.

So, Eragon followed the light. It wasn't too difficult to follow, and he soon realized that he didn't have a choice. This part of The Spine was completely foreign to him, and the trail behind him disappeared as he traveled over it. And if he got too far from the light, that cloud of magic would appear and start to put pressure on him again. Whoever it was knew he was coming, and didn't want him to lose his way, or leave.

The magic in the air was heavy, but Eragon was safer in the light, but the trees of this part of the Spine looked different. Some looked like normal trees, others looked like screaming figures of warriors, and he had come across a few statues as he walked, and each of them looked like one of the king's soldiers. They even had swords in hand and, Eragon realized with a sudden chill, not all of the statues were human. Some looked like they were holding weapons, and one was finely crafted with a blade and a shield, along with an insignia that Eragon didn't recognize. It would have been a marvelous work of art if the blade hadn't been embedded in a soldier's heart.

The soldiers face had a look of pain and of surprise, a thin rapier in his hand. His hair was solid as stone, as where his eyes, but Eragon had a suspicious feeling that they were maroon. A Shade. That was the moment Eragon began to wonder exactly who and what his host was, and why he would want to have such a strange statue. Then it dawned on him that the statues might not be statues. He was starting to hope that they were on his side.

Eventually, the trees parted, and Eragon was looking into a cave mouth. Truly, it was less a cave than it was a large overhang with walls. A small fire was burning with a pot of stew in the center, and a few water skins were lined up, damp with water. A bundle of clothes was rolled into a bundle, and looked like they had been used as a bed.

There, sitting on a crudely made wooden stool, stirring the pot of stew, sat a boy. The boy was tall, and was probably around sixteen, almost a year and a half younger than Eragon. He was built like a tree, and seemed to hold a kind of presence around him. His skin was a tanned white, and his tunic was stained, ripped, and torn in many places, and his leggings showed signs of hard use.

His hair was as white as snow, but his eyes were an electric purple color that seemed to reflect the light of what he saw. His jaw was strong and hardest, but laugh lines were dominate, and his foot moved to strange music that only he could hear. His hands were thin but strong, and he had a rapier strung to his side, a gem the same color as his eyes in the hilt.

As soon as Eragon stopped, the boy turned, and looked real hard at Eragon, searching for something. After a few moments of searching, the boy said "who are you?"

"I am Eragon." Eragon replied, and then repeated himself in the ancient language.

"Yhea right," the boy said, looking Eragon up and down, "The real Eragon would never have worn those shoes to go for a walk in the valley, and your tunic is a mess, not that I have any room to judge. Then the fact that you don't have your dragon is another indication that you aren't Eragon. You should have seen the way that he clung to that scaly beast! It was almost pathetic, but I guess he had his reasons. And since you have such a poor choice of attire, you are obviously not one of the prim and proper elves. What is vexing is that you look like one, but obviously ar…hello, what have we here?"

The boy had taken notice of Eragon's sword, or more of, the hand resting on it. He got up slowly, forgetting completely about the stew and walked over to Eragon.

"Can I see that?" He asked, his voice light, but his eyes told a different story. He was pointing at his hand, the same hand that had Brom's ring on it. Eragon was in no real position to refuse, and took off the ring, and handed it to the boy.

"How you managed to come in possession of this will be a mystery. I gave this ring to Eragon to seal the treaty. That insignia is a symbol of unity, one that is common to both elves and dragons. Wow! What have you been doing? This thing is almost empty!" the boy exclaimed putting the ring on.

"Wait, are you telling me that belonged to Eragon the first?" Eragon exclaimed, surprised that he had been carrying a relic of the very first rider. He wondered if Brom knew. Probably.

"Of course I gave it to Eragon the…First? What are you talking about?" the boy said, surprise reading in his eyes. And fear.

"The first Eragon was the first Dragon rider. He died almost seven thousand years ago." Eragon said.

The effect was instant. The boy just seemed to shut down for a few moments, and then he let out a cry of anger, grabbed his rapier, and lunged at Eragon.

With the reflexes the he had trained, Eragon dodged the lunge and shoved the boy out into the light mist and drew his own blade.

"Lies! You must be a dark elf, you have to be!" the boy cried out, anger making his eyes take on a red tint. He slashed at Eragon in every way possible, and Eragon blocked them all. He parried, slashed, stabbed, and thrust, and Eragon mirrored him to the inch, finding that the boy was surprisingly strong for his size.

The danced in a web of edges, Eragon throwing the wild energy that the boy was flinging in each blow. They fought for a while, and Eragon began to see the boy's skill. He was faster than he looked, and was able to deflect Eragon with a simple flick of the wrist, but his attacks seemed sloppy, even if they were fast and strong. They flew wide, and seemed to leave him open, but he always had the blade between him and Eragon, no matter how fast Eragon moved. And the boy could move! His foot work was lighter and faster than that of any elf that Eragon had met, and his attacks were becoming more precise and accurate. Eragon could feel that the boy was testing him. so Eragon decided to test him, and started weaving any web of metal he could. He thrust, slashed, parried, feinted and countered. The boy, realizing that Eragon was going on the attack instead of defending and restraining himself, also increased his efforts. The web they both made was a complicated blur of sword vs. rapier. Several times, Eragon saw his blade bend from a strong blow, but it straightened out immediately. It was faster magic that Eragon had even seen. It was more than instant, it was continuous. Neither fighter could get an upper hand, nor find any advantage. It was frustrating, but Eragon was against using magic, as he didn't know if the boy could. If he could, he would most likely be stronger. If he didn't Eragon might kill him, and then he would be lost in the Spine. That wouldn't be good.

The boy lasted longer than Eragon gave him credit, but Eragon had more stamina. The boy faltered for a few seconds, and Eragon took the advantage without shame or intent, just the need to get this over with.

Eragon slapped the boys hand with the flat of his blade, making him drop his blade, and then held the blade level with the boys face.

"I win." Eragon said, breathing heavily.

"No you…don't." the boy said, sweat shining on his forehead, then his arms disappearing and a knife was placed on Eragon's throat, "we tie."

Eragon lowered his blade slowly, and the boy pulled the dagger out of thin air and placed it back in his side sheath. He stomped the ground, and his sword flew to his hand, which he then put back in the sword sheath, not far from the dagger.

"Very well, you have proved yourself. Not only are you a capable sword master, you also fight with a just mind and heart. You are humble and know what it is like to lose when it is thought that you have won. I am Rhys Shadowstalker. What is it you seek?" Rhys said, sitting down and glanced at his forgotten stew. With a few choice words, he fumbled with a flint and steel, trying to rekindle the flames.

"_Brisinger."_ Eragon said simply, and the flames roared to life.

Rhys didn't jump back, nor move farther away. Instead, he plunged his hand into the flame. The flesh of his hand blackened and burned, revealing the bone beneath. He then muttered something, and then pulled his hand out, unharmed, with a small orb of fire in his hand, like the flame of a large candle with no wick. He took the fire to the edge of the mist, blew it out and made the valley clear out of the mist, giving Eragon a sight that hadn't been seen in eons.

The Valley was a marvel to behold. Great mountains of the Spine lined the horizon, and a few clumps of mist still clung to the valley floor. The tops of tall trees were just visible from the cave. Eragon was amazed that he hadn't noticed he had been climbing the mountain. The sun was setting, and the fiery orb looked larger behind the mountains, and bathed them in autumn light.

"Fire can destroy, but it can also reveal. Magic has a purpose, and sometimes it is hidden in mist, just as the valley you see was. Some of the most destructive spells can heal."


	2. The Shadows Grow

**what? did you all think I was dead? nope! sorry about the long wait, but I've been busy with life. ya know, that thing you do when you're not reading awesome stories. anyway, don't get too excited. I've gone back, fixed all of my horrible typos, added some detail, and other little things. you may notice that CH3 is down. i will be revising that chapter and I will make it make sense. hate to have to redo stuff, but gotta make it make sense...somewhat.**

This method of travel was…different. Eragon had never traveled by warping, but he had heard and read the legends about the Grey folk appearing where needed, and then disappearing into thin air. It was fast, and he could almost feel the leagues pass in seconds, but it wasn't comfortable.

The Dimension Hole had split Eragon into pieces, and Rhys' mind was forcing him to stay together. It was a strange feeling of openness, like when he had first touched minds with Saphira. But Rhys was different. He was full of energy, and a regret or sorrow that he seemed to be holding back with all the will In the world. It was interesting to be in contact with his chaotic mind, as it was always doing three things at once. He was keeping track of the distance and planning on exiting, and thinking of what he could do to help with the Dark elf, Holding back his sorrow, and was wondering if the elves still remembered him. He seemed really concerned about the last one.

And then he was shoved back together and was falling…

Saphira awoke with a start. Something was moving towered them. And it was big.

Eragon had been gone for three days, and Thorn and His rider had attacked them each day. And they brought that flame-cursed, shade possessed human with them the last day. The strange dragon it summoned had seemed real enough, but Saphira passed through it every time she attacked. What made it worse was that the lightning attack that it shot really hurt. And if Saphira didn't distract it somehow, it would attack the Varden as they tried to attack it with their sharp arrows and ran around like a lost chick. The only effective way to distract it was to attack the mage that summoned it, and even then the mage had odd spells that Saphira had never felt or seen. One practically nasty one sent he attack back at her with double the force. And if she did get through, thorn and his bloody rider intervened.

So the Varden took heavy losses, and Saphira took a pretty good beating in body and pride.

She looked up as this new terror approached them, and as soon as she was sure that this force was heading towered them, she let out a roar, and then the sky was torn wide open.

Rhys had to admit, traveling by portal of rift was _much_ faster than walking, running, or flying. In nearly two minutes, they had traversed a three day elf run or flight on dragon back.

But the complications were a little scary, and the worst ones kept popping in his head as they traveled. If they didn't rip themselves out, they could become lost in the dimension stream, or worse, appear in a different dimension with no way of getting back. If Rhys pulled Eragon out and forgot to pull some of his pieces, Eragon would lose and arm, a leg, or something like that. One time, Rhys lost half a brain and couldn't remember a thing until someone rammed the missing pieces back into his head. He still couldn't remember that clearly…

But his favorite one was that if he let his mind and Eragon's mix too much, he and Eragon would become one mind, and then either Rhys or Eragon would have to fight over one body, while the other body would be an empty husk, alive, but with no mind or reason. That was one of the reasons he was trying to keep himself from delving into Eragon's mind to find out what had been going on.

Rhys sensed that the opening was coming up, let Eragon have a ten second warning, and then pulled both of them out while forcing the portal open. Not easy, and Rhys was out of practice, so he had misjudged the position and the force needed.

He had meant to create a small little portal that he and Eragon could tumble out of (all the legends about portal drifters walking out of a portal gracefully and all calm like were _really_exaggerated. There was no way one could be cal after traveling that fast, and forget walking), but instead, he ripped open half the sky in a spectacular flash of light and ripples of dark energy, along with a rather satisfying sonic boom that flattened trees, tents, and broke glass. And then they started to fall from a high off, oh, a mountain top as high as the one Rhys had teleported them from. As they tumbled, Rhys made a mental note to remember to move the portal down next time…

And then he landed on something big, heavy, moving, metallic, and dragonish.

The large sapphire dragon turned at Rhys and glared, not recognizing him at all, and then rolled him off.

And then he was tumbling again, although more shocked at the dragon's rude behavior than he was to falling.

And then he remembered he was falling.

He ran a quick mental scan of his inventory of forms, trying to find one that was simple, and could survive a fall of about three hundred feet.

"Aha! Revival Jam."

The shadow magic hit him; much like the portal had, and created a strange want in him. It was the same want and temptation he always ad when he transformed. It was the desire for power, control, and absolute rule. He brushed it aside and focused on transforming in to the Revival Jam, A creature that was made out of a jelly like substance and could reform at will. All Rhys had to do was remember what he looked like.

He felt his body become a little runny, like he was sweating after a run around a country, and then the 'sweat' solidified around him in a solid shell, and he felt the rest of his body lose shape, and his organs and mind became more like a blob of mush than a rigid skeleton.

Oddly enough, the Dragon had carried him just above the camp and dumped him. This was a blessing and a curse, as water expands and flattens when it hit the ground. So Rhys, now nothing more than a blob of jelly hit the ground, he exploded like a giant tear drop, covering everything.

Rhys didn't feel a thing, but the people who Saphira had alerted with her roar were not too pleased.

After falling for a few moments, Saphira dashed under Eragon and caught him.

"_Little one, are you hurt? What happened? Why couldn't I feel you?"_ Saphira asked, her mind full of worry and concern.

"Fine. Where's Rhys?" Eragon said after he made sure nothing was broken. He had both his legs, arms, and head, and he wasn't in too much pain. His mind was still clouded and everything seemed to be in the wrong place, but he was in one piece.

"_Who's Rhys?"_ Saphira asked, but Eragon felt a small tremor in her mind as he mentioned another person.

"The grey folk I was sent to find. He has a weapon that can help us defeat Galbatorix." Eragon said, and waited for her response.

Instead, Aria's mind rang loud in his ears, _"Eragon! What is the idea of dropping this…muck… on us!"_

"_What muck?"_ Eragon asked, trying to sound like he had no idea what it meant. He assumed that it was Rhys' doing.

Furious, she sent him a mental picture. The center clearing had been covered by a strange blue glob, and it had covered everything. Eragon could see Roran, Katrina, Jörmundur, Nasuada, and various soldiers standing in the cleared spot, swords and hammer drawn, all covered in dripping in slime.

Eragon tried not to laugh.

"_We will be right down"_ Saphira sent when she realized Eragon wouldn't be able to send anything back without offending Aria. As they drifted down, Eragon quickly explained as much as he could about Rhys.

Saphira landed right in the center of the muck. It was the only place that she could land. Th gunk was very sticky and refused to let go of anything it touched.

"Eragon, you better have a good reason for this. This was a very clean shirt." Roran said a frown on his face but humor in his eye.

"Actually…I have no idea what happened. Did any of you see a boy, white hair and purple eyes?" Eragon asked.

The glop they were standing in moved vigorously. Several people started to shake or scrap off the moving goo, and a few people started to discard clothing.

The blue slop gathered in the center of the clearing, and took the form of a blob with a face. Then it started to squeeze together, taking on more shape and detail, until Rhys was standing before them. Then, color was added, and his clothes were formed and solidified. There was a crunching noise, a sigh, and Rhys was standing, full flesh and bone.

"Well, That was fun, "he said, popping his neck and rotating his joints, "now, miss Dragon, would you be so kind as to tell me why you decided to drop me _after_ you caught me?"

Saphira looked at him for a moment, and had an answer, _"you weren't familiar to me, and I've had to deal with human magic for the past three days. You weren't human magic, so I could safely assume you were that stupid mage and her dragon."_

"Well, sorry I didn't call ahead; I'll remember to do that next time." Rhys said, flicking small bits of blue slime off his clothes, "now then, let's see what I have to work with…"

Rhys turned around and took a long look at the Varden camp. He looked at the tents, counted the number of drawn swords, and then looked back at Saphira. "Well," He said, "you should be happy to know that if I wanted you all dead, you would be disappointed. Eragon hear told me that I might not receive a warm welcome, and being tossed off Dragon back is not as bad as you would think. However, If Elva, Rion, or Sespa were here, you would be dead. Now then, what can I do to help stop this 'mystery mage' that has caused so much greif?"

"You are just a boy! What can you do? We need a warrior!" a voice in the small and growing assembly said

"Excuse me! Who said that? I dema…want to know who said that!" Rhys said, looking insulted, but then he put on a mask that was calm and calculating. It scared Eragon more than the spirit of Durza.

A soldier walked out of the ring of people, fully arrayed for battle and sword drawn. He was a new recruit, and was a young one. A hot head by the looks of it, and he was challenging Rhys. probably a young man from Surda with a hot temper.

"You are nothing more than a child. Go home." The soldier said, leveling his blade at Rhys.

"oh, so now the youngest 'man' here gives the orders? Well, fine, I'll just be going."

He turned, and started to walk away, and treated Eragon to a sinister form of grin, "but…there are a few reasons I can't leave. One of the reasons being that a few of the soldiers here need to have a few lessons in swordplay."

"Yhea? Like who? You are nothing more than a coward! You have a rapier, and talk of having skill with it. I'm the best swordsman here, so let's see this almighty power of yours." The youth said. From the way that he was standing, he had had a few to drinks. Not enough to send him over, but enough to make him hot tempered and irrational.

"Is that so?" Rhys said quietly, but he seemed amused.

Eragon reached out with his mind. To better anticipate what was about to happen. The youth was angry, mostly because his girlfriend had refused to go to bed with him. Something about short time. His thoughts were also a little muddled, several drinks worth. Eragon could feel absolutely no emotion from Rhys. In fact, he couldn't feel anything at all. To his mind, Rhys was dead.

"Are you making fun of me?" The youth challenged, holding a halberd aloft and making like he was going to throw it.

"Not really. Only agreeing." Rhys said.

"Yhea, I know I'm better than you." The youth said, lowering the halberd and grinning with a smirk that made Eragon want to punch him. It was the same look that everyone had given him before he became a rider. It was a look an adult gave a child that was pushing the boundaries, and needed to be reminded who was bigger.

"Then why did you lower your weapon?" Rhys asked, and then all chaos broke loose. Rhys dashed forward, slapped the youth with the back of his hand. Astounded, the drunk backed away for a step, and then flung the halberd at Rhys, who jumped into the air. It missed, and was flying at Lady Nasuada. Nasuada had no time to move.

"Dark impact!" Rhys shouted, realizing his error. He thrust his hand forward like a fighter hitting a rock, and the Halberd shattered into small slivers of shadow.

Before them youth could even register what he had done wrong, Rhys landed on the ground, dashed forward, and then kicked the youth with his foot, sending him crashing into the tent he was in front of. Several people moved away from the tent

"Not better than me. I would have never thrown a halberd. I prefer close combat."

Rhys turned and looked at Eragon. "You know, this is the most fun I've had in a long time. I think I'll stick around a little while."

"Mage! What are your affiliations?" Jörmundur said. He had approached Rhys from behind, and was now holding a blade behind him, ready to impale his heart.

"Well," Rhys said, taking a seat next to Nasuada, almost three feet away and behind Jörmundur, "I have my own reasons for helping. And no, I don't want to share. Although, if I wanted to cause harm to the Varden, why would I be here? Anyway Jörmundur, I would think very carefully about what you are talking about."

Jörmundur spun around, and Rhys was holding out a card. It was the same one that he had 'taken' from the strange mage. "Not everyone can take a shadow caster spell. It takes a ton of magic, or a willing trade."

Jörmundur took the card without a word.

Rhys stretched and let out a long yawn, "Anyway, anybody know where I can sleep? I feel like I'm about to pass out."

"What! Are you sure?"

The dark waters bubbled, and a hissing noise filed the hollow darkness of the cavern. A single shape was leaning over the pool of black water. A skeletal hand reached out, pale and ghost like in the light. A small rectangular object appeared in the hand, rotating. A horrible hissing noise filled the cavern, and the water shook to the deepest depths. The card burned with dark magic, and then a woman's reflection appeared on the water surface.

She was a young woman with slightly pointed ears and soulless eyes. At one time, the face might have had unsurpassed beauty, but all beauty had been taken away, and replaced with a love for torture and cruelty.

She gazed at the hooded figure, and bowed her head slightly, "Master, He has awakened. This is all according to plan."

The hooded figure glared at the Woman, "Elvia! You fool! He has no recollection of the past. He blotted it out to not remember. You gave the messenger the wrong spell. Instead of the spell of remembrance, you gave him the emblem of awakening! Do you not remember the power he possesses?"

"I remember perfectly master. But the emblem of awakening has a side effect. It loosens the walls of any barriers on the mind. He remembers what we did, and he made the connection with the present, but as time goes by, he will remember what he had done. When he remembers, we shall all rise as we did before, and crush them all." Elvia said, her voice ringing with confidence, and he mouth twitched, almost a smile, but not one that was friendly at all.

"Hmmmmm…" The hooded figure thought. As time passed, he wondered of any possible consequences. Then he grinned, "yes…I see you wicked plan. We shall raise the Legion, and then, we will see if he can summon the immortals. That will be the time to strike, as he will be battling himself. Well done."

"Yes Master. We shall Rise, and with us, the Truth will be reborn." Elvia said, and then the water became calm again and the woman disappeared.

"Yes…truth will rise… I only hope, dear Elvia, that you can face your own."

"So…You can talk to a dead dragon…With this?" Rhys said, poking Glader's Eldunarí, "doesn't look like much…more like an egg than a soul tomb."

"_And Eragon isn't the only that can speak to me."_Glader said, his voice echoing in the boy's head.

Rhys looked surprised for a moment, and then he grinned, "Telekinesis. That explains a lot. Eragon the first refused to tell me any of his secrets. He considered his dragon to be something of a king's daughter, and was very protective. Corse, I couldn't blame him, being hated by both dragons and elves at first, but it would have been nice to have a few ideas of how things worked. You know no surprises and all that. So, where can I sleep?"

Eragon looked around. Every room in the keep had two people in it, except his. Even Arya had an Elvin mage in her room with her. But he also had the smallest room, another reason he had his own room. All he had was a small closet that he could stuff Saphira's saddle into if he really tried. The rest of his floor was littered with scrolls and histories that had words of the ancient language on them. It looked like a tornado had torn threw his room, and then spit out a fine layer of dust.

"I have a closet, but I'll need to move Saphira's saddle first." Eragon said, moving to the closet, trying hard not to step on any scrolls.

Rhys jumped, and landed on a clear spot a few feet from the closet. He opened the closet, hefted the heavy saddle, and tossed it onto Eragon's bed. "Not bad. I could use this. Although, you will have to knock before you come in. enchantments and all. That and relearning old powers are worse than learning them the first time. Learning them, you learn the hard way. Relearning, you remember the shortcuts, but not the way they work. Now, if you will excuse me, time to set up shop."

He jumped into the closet, and then shut the door.

Eragon shook his head. _"Saphira. If I didn't know any better, I'd say we picked up a loon."_

Saphira snorted, _"I don't know better. I think you did pick up a loon."_

Eragon thought about that. He was the only person that had seen what had happened on the top of the mountain. Rhys hadn't deflected any energy, but he had channeled it into ways that he could use it. And then, he had become a warrior. The amount of energy that the warrior had released, and the feeling of terror and fear that he griped Eragon had been…amazing. He didn't scare to easily any more, thanks to Thorn and Murtagh attacking them constantly. And the deathless soldiers did things to a person's nerves. They were intimidating at first, because they felt no pain, but as they became more common, they were…less intimidating. Rhys was different. That warrior had been strong, and Eragon had a feeling that the blade that the warrior had was stronger even that his rider blade. That wasn't the scary part. What was scary was the feeling of raw power that was sleeping in Rhys. The warrior had been a default. What was Rhys's choice? Was it stronger? Or was the warrior an accident and nothing should be thought of it? And would he boost moral like they wanted? Saphira said that he seemed like a loon, and he did act a little loony. The Varden probably thought that he was a loon as well.

Footsteps rushed down the hall, and Eragon's door was thrown wide open. A breathless scout came in, fear in his eyes. "Eragon! We need you in the front lines, the strange Mage has returned, but she has more than one dragon!"

"What!" Rhys yelled, slamming open the closet door, his anger and volume scaring the scout.

"She has come…with two dragons…one is the blue-eyed, white terror, and the other is a Large black on two legs and with arms. It has spikes and blades all over it." The scout said meekly, withering under Rhys's Glare.

"Dark Armed and Blue Eyes…Well, it seems that I'm going to be needed sooner than I thought…" Rhys said, and swept out of the room with a pace that was like a horses trot.

Elvia. It had to be. She was the only one that used Dark Armed dragon. And she was good. That wasn't good. Rhys had remembered some of his basic tactics, but nothing to what he used to know. He had to remember more, and even at full strength, Elvia was a pain. He wasn't even half strength, and she was already making a house call? Lame. Well, if anything else, he would have some fun. As he walked down the hall towered the ramparts of the fort, he mentally checked the monsters he would use, the spells he had, and the traps that he had set.

The ramparts were chaos. Everyone wanted to see the two dragons, weather for good or ill, and most ran away panicking. Rhys reached the middle of the chaotic Rampart, and looked for Elvia. She had to be there, as a shadow monster is almost impossible to control at a great distance.

There! She was on top of Dark Armed Dragon. She looked thinner than he remembered, and her face had lost all beauty it might have had. She looked right at Rhys, and even at the distance of the field, he could feel her grin and malcontent. He saw a flash, and Blue Eyes lifted off the ground, a light gathering at his open mouth, and All people on the rampart took off with all speed. A smaller red dragon moved farther away from Elvia, but Rhys didn't recognize the beast, so he ignored it, focusing only on Elvia's Dragon.

He didn't have to wait long.

The burst stream attack flew across the open field like a falling star, the dreadful roar hitting the wall before the blast. The land was ripped to pieces, and the wind was beaten, making the Blast attack come even faster. Rhys vaguely wondered how much she practiced.

But, now wasn't the time for thought, it was the time for instinct! Well, and a little thought. If he activated the wrong trap too early, it wouldn't do him any good. So, his mind worked at light speed. Dark Burst Breath Stream was a spell card that had been made specifically for Elvia. It allowed her to select Her Dark Armed Dragon, give that attack to another monster, and then that monster immediately attacked. It was a very powerful attack, but it counted as effect damage in the game, making it really hard to stop. Stopping it would be…complicated. However, redirecting it wouldn't be.

"Nature's Reflection!" Rhys yelled as soon as the comet cleared the middle of the battle field, and a Card appeared in front of his outstretched hand, and flashed.

A large stone slab rose from the earth, green light glowing around it.

"What? A Wall? Is that the best that you can do?" A soldier said despairingly.

Rhys didn't say anything.

"You are mad!" The soldier said, running for his life.

"Am I mad?" Rhys said to himself, "or am I the only sane one."

The blast slammed into the rock wall with the force of a falling star, but the formation held. Rhys almost didn't. In the game, the cards worked, and that was that. The cards themselves were not important. Rhys could be very weak and summon a strong monster, and the monster would be much weaker. The same applied in reverse. The game also didn't kill people. In reality, the cards worked and gave the tools or weapons, but the user had to be strong enough to use them. Elvia had practice, and her attack probably took little out of her.

Rhys on the other hand was completely out of practice. His counter should have been nothing more than a flick of his wrist, but as soon as all the energy and force slammed into the stone monolith, what would have been a simple blast back before became a mountain to lift with two twigs. Rhys was slammed with the energy, and he was even shoved back a few feet.

But he wasn't done. He shoved back. He didn't shove hard, but he shoved a little, and then he was shoving a lot. He remembered the power that he had, and now he was angry that he couldn't do what he should be able to. That he promised Eragon that he would help, and it would do no one any good if he decided to let himself get blown up.

"No…You…Don't!" He roared, and shoved all the energy he had at his disposal at the shove back.

The energy was absorbed into the stone, and with a few quick motions, Rhys sent the energy blasting back.

The Light, now a distinctly bluer shade, slammed into Blue eyes like the world itself. A Crack of thunder ripped the sky open, and a flash of light so bright that it burned the eyes of the stars was accompanied with a Scream of pain, from both Dragon and human.

Rhys gazed on as the light cleared. Blue-eyes was frozen in time, and then it became translucent, and burst into small fragments of shadow.

The Death of a shadow monster.

Shadow monsters were made of shadow, but the attacks were, curiously, made of light. That was why a Shadow Monster could only be beaten by a Shadow Monster or Shadow Caster.

People were coming up to congratulate him, or look dumbfounded as the stone slab sank into the ground. A sound traveled across the battle field, and Rhys realized that the noise was someone clapping.

"Bravo. You managed to get rid of one." The voice said, echoing in Rhys head, and from the look on the other faces, they could hear the voice as well. It was feminine, but the comment had a sneer in it. From the tone in her voice, she was not happy about him reflecting the attack, and not at all happy that he had managed to hit her dragon.

"Elvia." Rhys said. Two people looked at him, Eragon and Nasuada. Eragon had heard him mention Elvia, but Nasuada had no clue that he knew the Dark elf. For all she knew, he was there because he wanted to fight for the Varden. Boy was she wrong.

"Now, can you handle Dark Armed? Attack!" Elvia's thoughts said.

The large black dragon roared his assent, and charged down the field. He didn't need to blast any energy yet. All he needed to do was run into the wall, and he would cause massive damage. Elvia was grinning.

"A Hero Emerges." Rhys said, and raised his hands wide above his head.

A ring of cards appeared above his head, and began to circle. Rhys reached up, took one, and looked at it.

"Perfect." He said, "Decoy Dragon!"

A ring of light Appeared in a small space in front of the fortress, and a small blue dragon, halve the size of Eragon, appeared. He flapped his tiny wings, and hovered in front of the castle gates. It looked like a pet more than a dragon, but it would be a mistake to call it anything other. Dragon hatchling. maybe.

By itself, the small blue dragon was doomed.

"Now! Mountain!"

A Second card flashed, but this one was different. Instead of flashing, this one sent out a wave of light, and the ground behind the fortress rose up, creating an unnatural, but real, mountain.

"Soul Exchange!"Rhys yelled

A third card flashed, and Dark armed tried to skid to a stop, a look of horror on his face. The look of assured Triumph on Elvia's face vanished, and she screamed "No!" and tried to stop him with a spell, but Rhys was already in motion.

Decoy Dragon glowed a brilliant white, and shot up into the air, its body nothing more than an orb of strange energy, part light and part shadow. Then the body of Dark Armed Dragon became transparent, and Elvia jumped off, her face still a mixture of rage, anger, and…Fear?

Eragon wondered that if this powerful mage was scared of whatever Rhys was summoning, should he be too?

A physical change passed over Rhys. His hair became longer, and armor grew from his shoulders down, and covered all but his head and left arm. His vibrant eyes became a deep dark shade of Purple that no light escaped from. A wicked crescent blade appeared in his clenched fist, and dark energy flowed from him to the blade, make the shadows look bright. His grinning face became a twisted mirror image, and all youth was gone. Rhys now looked as mad as Elvia.

"You are mad!" Elvia screamed, "They can't be controlled!"

Dark armed dragon disappeared, replaced by the same energy that Decoy Dragon had become, and then shot up to join the circling orb that had been decoy dragon.

"Funny thing is, they can't be controlled to be used for good. Only anger. Guess what I've carried around with me for the past 500 years or so?" Rhys laughed, his face becoming something more sinister. This was nothing like the magnificent warrior he had become the first time, this was something undesirable, something that would scare a shade out of his wits.

"I summon…"

"Please…don't do this!" Elvia pleaded. She looked truly terrified now, "I…I…I had no choice! The others made me! That was why I gave Jörmundur the Key!"

"…A monster of unimaginable power…"

"You are mad!" Elvia screamed, tears in her eyes, and then she turned and ran.

"…a creature born of hatred, one that lived in the shadows of the soul…"

Blue flames leaped up from the ground, and encircled the entire fortress, making a design. From Eragon's view on Saphira, the flames connected, and made the form of a strange looking dragon.

"I Summon…"

Elvia had no place to go, and she looked to the sky with pure horror. Eragon followed her gaze, and realized that a large stone object was floating in the air. It looked like a large heart. The energy from the two monsters came together, and was absorbed into the stone heart. Energy coursed in shallow lines that crisscrossed the heart.

_WHUMP-BUMP_

The air vibrated with sound, and the heart beat once, then again _WHUMP-BUMP_. Eragon could feel his own heart start to beat faster, and the stone heart made him feel a terror that he hadn't felt since he was a small child. Saphira felt it, and even Thorn, who had been snaking up behind them and let out a rather un-dragonish squawk of terror.

As long as that heart was beating, Eragon felt a new terror, one that made him fear for the lives of everyone he knew. It was fear of the night.

"The earthbound immortal…"

_WHUMP-BUMP...WHUMB-BUMP…WHUMP-BUMP_

"…Rasca Raiscu!" Rhys screamed, a look of pure hatred on his face, and his blade was thrust towered the sky. All the Varden around him had backed away.

The stone Heart…exploded. Sort of. The heart was blown into chunks, and a beam of powerful energy blasted down like a beam from the sun, shattering the night for worlds around. The force of the energy passing would have been enough to knock a man down on his face, and it shoved Saphira and Eragon a good twenty feet down.

On the ground, all was chaos. The energy hit the ground, and entered without a single ripple. Then Rhys laughed, "Know that you fate is in my hands. Gaze upon the form of terror, the Earthbound…Dragon!"

The ground surged up in a massive explosion, sending rocks the size of men flying in all directions. And a shape rose out of the gaping hole of blue flames, a form of complete and total darkness. The head was larger than a castle, and the body was made out of smooth turns. It was a dragon, but none that had ever been seen.

Not a scale could be seen instead, lines were inscribed along the creature, glowing a purple color, the same as Rhys eyes, and two horns stuck out of the dragon's head in the same shadow form as the rest of its body. The tail was a full twenty people long, and the feet were large enough to pick up a large house easily. No claws. No for legs either, instead it had large wings. Large was an understatement, as they seemed to go on forever; the entire span could have been a league by itself! There was no color on this beast, and it was darker than the night around it. The energy that it radiated was pure. Powerful. Hatred.

Then the creature let out a cry from the elongated snout, a cry that was one of greif, sadness, and fury combined. Several of the Varden screamed, and Eragon found himself shaking. Even Saphira was having trouble flying near the creature.

Rhys was laughing, "Well…Any last words? Because Rasca and I are about to obliterate the piece of earth that you stand on."

"You are no better than the others! I thought you would at least remember your own sister!" Elvia screamed, tears streaming down her face

"Some sister I had." Rhys said coldly, but Eragon had felt something in Rhys mind. Regret? Unwillingness?

Regardless, it was something. Rhys didn't want to kill Elvia; that much Eragon could get from Rhys's thoughts, but something seemed to be controlling him. Something stronger and bigger than any of them. Hatred.

"Now…Die!" Rhys screamed, and thrust his blade at Elvia.

Rasca screamed again, and energy began to gather around Rasca, and several lights appeared around its mouth. One of them would have been enough to take out a dragon. Rhys was having Rasca attack with six Blasts.

And there was nothing He could do. Well, almost nothing.

Reading his mind, Saphira agreed, and they dived.


End file.
